


What You Wanted

by CrowKing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones (Video Game 2014)
Genre: F/M, Incest, One Shot, Power Play, Sibling Incest, Smut, Tumblr request, dub-con, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: Request: I’ve read several of your pieces and all are great - I’m a big fan. I’m a huge Ramsay fan and very into the dark side of power plays, bdsm and control, so I really appreciate your excellent writing around these themes. Would you do a Ramsay/fem reader piece where the reader is Ramsay’s younger sister (a true Bolton) who he has kept under his control since she was little and has always wanted sexually. Would love it if she wants him too secretly but resists him until she gives in."It wasn’t superior blood. It wasn’t ‘keeping it in the family’. This was what you desired more than anything. To belong to your brother and for him to belong to you."





	What You Wanted

You sat next to him at the dinner table. His hand petted your knee. The slightest touch of his fingers made your hairs raise. Roose spoke to his colleagues and Ramsay, your older brother, about Stannis’ advancements. You paid no mind. Your father wouldn’t let Stannis Baratheon take your home from you.

And your brother would kill anyone if they tried.

You remembered the day you met your older brother. Both of you shared the same blue eyes and dark hair, but had vastly different personalities. Where you were a Lady in all regards, Ramsay was a mad dog. Still, he wished to be gentle with you.

“This is our brother, Ramsay,” Domeric told you with a smile on his face. “He’s our family, ok?” You were small at the time, but you knew what happened to Domeric. You thought you were next until Ramsay cornered you one day.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you whimpered. Ramsay tucked his finger under your chin.

“No, no, dear sister,” he explained to you. “I’m here to protect you. Horrors have come upon our family. Nothing will happen to you if you listen to me. Understand?” Since that day, you and Ramsay came to an unspoken understanding. You did whatever he told you, and Ramsay would be the dutiful, older brother.

It started with Ramsay keeping you inside the Dreadfort. No one could hurt you if you stayed inside the walls. You had everything you wanted here. Books, candles, safety, food. Why would you leave? A rebellious guard wanted to flee Ramsay’s terror house and took you with him, thinking that Ramsay was hurting you. You fought against him. You screamed for your brother’s as you waved your arms around.

Ramsay and the Bastard’s Boys caught the guard not twenty feet away from the Dreadfort. Ramsay carried you to bed and tucked you in. 

“Don’t cry,” Ramsay whispered to you. “Father will hear you. We’re not weak. We are Boltons.”

“The guard…are you going to kill him too?” you asked.   
“Do you want me to kill him?” Ramsay smiled. He waited for your answer. You didn’t contemplate on it too long. You knew Ramsay would do whatever he wanted.

“What if you made an example of him?” you posed the idea.

“How so?”

“String him up. With our cross and nails. Show what happens when they go against us.” It wasn’t a humane idea, but it could prolong his life. Ramsay’s smile turned wicked. He kissed your soft, cold cheek. 

“Wonderful idea, little sister,” Ramsay layered one more fur on you. “Warm up now. And go to sleep.” You remembered the night Ramsay discovered sex. His voice growled and moaned in the hallways. The morning after, his treatment of you changed. Ramsay affectionately pet you more. He spent more time with you alone.

He wasn’t a monster. He didn’t dare touch you like that until you bled. His first kiss with you was stolen in a hallway at night. He held your face to his, kissing you softly. It was the gentlest way he ever touched you. 

Some way Ramsay treated you better than his bedwarmers. Others said you followed the traditions of the Tagaryens and the Lannisters. Once you were nervous about your father finding out about your relationship with Ramsay.

“Rumors,” he scoffed. “They’ll say anything to ruin us. One day you’ll be married off to high lord.”

“A high lord?” you asked.

“Yes, this family is set to be the next heirs of Winterfell,” Roose smiled down at both of you. The next months was filled with so much change that you couldn’t keep up. Your body was changing and becoming more appealing to your brother. He became braver with his power over you. Bringing you into his bed, gifting you sweets and flowers, and even torturing a guard stronger than him for smiling at you.

His hand was always on you in some way. Holding it, on your knee, in your hair, around your throat. Ramsay was rough in and out of bed. You never truly enjoyed it, but you didn’t dare tell him no. You tried. Once.

“Brother, please,” your voice yelped. His hand tangled in your hair and he pressed you against the wall.

“Please. I love it when you beg for me.”

“No. I don’t want to. No,” you pleaded with him. He only kept going. Your grabbed his hands. “No, brother, I’m bleeding.”  
“You think that’s going to stop me?” Ramsay snickered. He had you even when you said no. You were used to it until your father came back to Winterfell with news.

“Lord Whitehill has a son ready to marry. Gryff will be here when the week ends,” Roose smiled.

“The Whitehills?” Ramsay budded in. “Why?”

“They have trees. Trees to make us whatever we need.”

“I thought that was the Forresters.”

“It was. Until I gave their forests to the Whitehills.” Roose walked up to you and smiled. “You will marry Gryff Whitehill and become a true lady in the North.” 

Your eyes matched Ramsay’s. His were wide and panicked. He was going to lose you. Which led back to the dinner table. Ramsay’s hand over your knee. Lord Whitehill listened carefully to Roose. Stannis was close, but the enemy was closer. Gryff Whitehill stared at you from across the table. Ramsay’s hand did not move from you.

After supper, you kindly offered Gryff a walk around Winterfell. He was a large man, second to his father. His dirty curls and round face reminded you of a baby, not a man. He spoke like one though. Interrupting you with every chance he got.

“I heard you own the tre—

“The trees have always belonged to the Whitehills,” Gryff said, smiling. “This land belonged to my ancestors long ago. But you wouldn’t know that.”

“I’m sorry I didn—

“How old did you say you were again? I know you are a young bride. You’ll give me plenty of sons.”

“I do like children—

“Then, you and I will rule the North.”

“What? My brother—

“Is a bastard. Not true born like you,” Gryff sneered. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” You heard a familiar voice in the darkness. Gryff and you turned to see your older brother and his friends holding ropes and wood. Ramsay’s eyes landed on you. “Come here.”

Gyff grabbed you. Your eyebrows knitted and looked to your brother, but then you saw what was behind him and you relaxed.

“Get’em,” Ramsay said into the cold air. Two dogs took down Gryff in seconds. The Bastard’s boys rush to stuff his mouth with cloth, bind his hands and feet. Ramsay took you aside. “Go to bed. I’ll meet you later.”

You stayed in the warm furs and safety of your bed, wondering what kind of horrors befell Gryff Whitehall. You heard nothing except for the wind against the trees. Your door creaked open and you peeked at your brother. 

His chest and hands were covered in blood. You weren’t sure whose, but soon it did not matter. Without many words, Ramsay found his way under your nightgown. His bloodied fingers penetrated your womanhood, but you stayed silent. This is what he wanted, and you always did whatever your brother wanted. Ramsay kissed you senselessly, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

His hands dug deep into your hair his mouth reached your neck. His teeth bit you, marking you as his. You belonged to no one else but him. He wanted no one else but you. But what did you want?

Ramsay’s penis penetrated you and you gave out a gasp. This felt different. Everything before felt so forced, but this felt gentler. Just like when he first kissed you. You let out more gasps, only to cover them up. Ramsay moved your hand away.

“What are you doing?” Ramsay’s hips did not stop. The bed started to rock.

“What if he hears me? What if father walked in right now?”

“I don’t care. Let him. Let him find out what we do. You are all that exists to me,” Ramsay returned for your neck. Ramsay’s dick rocked you making you wet for him. This was it. What you wanted. You didn’t want the rough, the awful, or the vengeful Ramsay. You wanted your brother. You started to understand why the Queen loved her twin brother. Why the Targaryens inbred for decades. 

It wasn’t superior blood. It wasn’t ‘keeping it in the family’. This was what you desired more than anything. To belong to your brother and for him to belong to you.

You gave into him. Ramsay’s hands held yours down as you moaned for him. Feeling your enthusiasm, he went faster. He kept you face to face, watching your every reaction to him. He drank you in faster than his boys could drink ale. His thumb circled your clit and made her swollen. Ramsay left you helpless in his hands. 

You moaned over and over until you felt your end. Your legs shook. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Soon after, you felt Ramsay’s end. His cock twitching and releasing his seed into you. Both of you collapsed into the bed. The warmth inside of you spread like fire. You felt the desire to keep Ramsay, matching his desire for you.


End file.
